


The Last Night

by NHarmonic



Series: Whitebeard Pirates [7]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Marco Breaks Down, Marco is a sad lonely immortal, The Whitebeard Pirates Live On, Whitebeard Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NHarmonic/pseuds/NHarmonic
Summary: Summary: These days, with how many siblings he now had, it wasn't often Marco got the chance to spend time with Oyaji by himself, but something about that night seemed important. Like it would be their last night together. NOT ROMANCE, JUST FATHERLY/SON LOVE!!!





	1. The Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic of mine that I decided to post for my series, which is my love child. I love this series I've written.
> 
> I've come to the realization that I will never decide on a time frame for how long the Whitebeard Pirates have been a family. I jumped between 20 and 40 years all too often.

Aboard the  _ Moby Dick  _ the night was quiet and peaceful; too quiet, too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm. We found ourselves in Whitebeard's room, lit only by candlelight, with the old man lying in his bed. Next to him, was his oldest son, Marco, who was lying in the crevice between his father's left arm and chest. Marco was slightly tense, his arms crossed as he grit his teeth, but Whitebeard was calm, enjoying a barrel of sake.

"Do you remember that day, yoi?" Marco finally uttered, scooching closer to the old man's chest. "The day we met?"

"Gurarara," Whitebeard chuckled, and took a swing of his drink, "I do," he replied, glancing at his son.

"Thirty years now huh?" Marco said idly, and glance at his father. "I was a pipsqueak back then, yoi.”

"You were forced to be a pet," Whitebeard said with disdain, "you had little choice in the matter."

Marco uncrossed his arms and put one behind his head. "No one would believe that, yoi" he chuckled lightly. “I don’t act like a slave anymore.”

Whitebeard hummed in agreement and then it was silent for a few moments. No words were said but that doesn't mean there wasn't any to be said. After what seemed like forever, Whitebeard finally spoke again.

"Not that I don't enjoy my son's company," he looked at Marco, "but, what is wrong my dear son?"

Marco flinched and looked down, his eyes hidden from his father. "I've lost Thatch, my first brother; I've been betrayed by Teach, one of my first brothers; and my youngest brother is on death row, to be executed tomorrow... Oyaji will I lose you too, yoi?"

Whitebeard paused before putting his sake down; he shifted to better face his first son. "I would do anything for any of my sons, including taking on the world, even for one. I will give my all to save Ace, and keep the rest of you safe. Even if means giving you all my own life, I would gladly do it."

Marco's body pulled in closer, becoming a small ball against his father. "Can I sleep here tonight, just one last time, yoi?" he whispered.

"Gurararara," Whitebeard laughed. "Aren't you a little old to sleep in my bed, Marco?"

Marco smiled. "No Oyaji," he said, "never."

Whitebeard lied flat and Marco moved, his form lying on top of his father, barely making it past his waist. Marco listened to the strong, beating heart under his ear. Despite what he was feeling at that moment, Marco was almost instantly calmed. Marco matched his breathing to the beats under his ear.

"Who will take care of everyone yoi?" Marco couldn't help but whisper to himself.

Whitebeard brought his hand up and gently stroked Marco's back with his thumb. "I've trained you for this moment all of your life Marco," he said.

"Yea but nothing prepares you for the real thing, yoi," Marco argued, but there was no heat to it.

A deep chuckle rumbled from Whitebeard's chest, jostling Marco slightly. "I know you can do it my son, and beside, nothing has happened yet. For all we know, nothing will," he assured.

Marco nuzzled his face into his father's warm skin. "And if something does?" he murmured. 

Whitebeard was silent for a moment. "I wrote it down in my heart a long time ago," he said. "Now quiet. Sleep. We all have a long day tomorrow."

Marco's hand found Pops's thumb. "...Night Oyaji..."


	2. My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: chapter 2/sequel to The Last Night, now that the worst has come... How will Marco cope... Who will lead the Whitebeard family... How would they live without Oyaji?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are OCs as there are over 2k members in Oyaji family and only about 20 are mentioned. Nothing can be done about it.

Everything was silent as Shanks, captain of the Red Hair Pirates, and Marco, the once first mate of the Whitebeard Pirates, now captain, walked from the two flower-lavished graves. Whitebeard and Ace were dead; no longer a part of this world. The sea seemed to be sad as well by the departure of her husband and child, lapping with no energy against the two pirates' feet as they returned to the  _ Red Force _ . Without prompting, Marco followed Shanks onto the ship and into the captain's quarters. 

Marco walked in first and Shanks followed, closing the door. Shanks was going to say something but Marco spoke first.

Marco’s hand came up in a ‘stay there’ motion. “Do-don’t move, yoi,” he said, sounding like he was choking. “Don’t move!” he said a little firmer.

The red haired captain complied, staying by the door as Marco hunched over, his form shuddering; he remained where he was as one of his oldest friends broke before him. Marco’s shudders turned into gut-wrenching sobs, and he fell to his knees as his legs gave out; fisting his hair as he cried tears that came from his very soul. He cried for Thatch, his first brother, for Ace, his youngest brother, and for Whitebeard, his beloved father; he cried for every misfortune that’d attacked his being ever since that bastard Blackbeard let his greed take him over. He just let himself free. 

After what seemed like hours, Marco let himself fall on his rump, his back resting against a dresser. Marco pressed onto his eyes with his palms as he bit his lip, trying to contain the sounds that came from his moment of weakness. Marco sniffed sharply, trying to catch his breath as he released stuttering exhales, calming his near hyperventilation. Finally, the tears began to slow to a trickle, and then stopped altogether. Marco released a shuddering breath, removing his hands from his face to look at them with blank, red eyes.

“Here,” murmured Shanks, who had been staring out the window, and gave him a yellow handkerchief. 

Marco took it, staring for a moment, yellow like Thatch’s, before roughly wiping his face of the stinging tears. Marco heaved a deep sigh, coughing when his breath caught on saliva in his throat before he sighed, holding his face for a moment in the cloth. Finally, Marco dragged his face with his hands before looking up at Shanks, who was looking at him with a sad expression. 

“You’re something else,” Shanks finally said. “You know they’d be there for you if you’d just open up.”

Marco shook his head. “I know,” he mumbled, “but they’re grieving too, yoi; they need a shoulder that I have to lend. A leader.”

Shanks shook his head. “They just lost their father, they don’t need a replacement off the back. They just need time, and so do you.”

Marco said nothing, looking at the floor and Shanks didn’t continue the conversation, but he looked towards his bedside table. The captain walked towards it.

“Two weeks ago,” he began, opening the drawer. “I received something from a messenger from Whitebeard to pass onto you.”

Marco raised his head and looked at the other man, watching as he pulled something from the drawer. Shanks walked over to the man, holding the item in reverence.

“I think he knew something was going to happen,” Shanks said quietly, giving up the item.

It was a wooden box; crudely carved and poorly painted in cheap, white paint; the side said in smudged, black charcoal ‘I love Oyaji’ with a sloppy, happy smile. Marco stroked over the wood, barely escaping a splinter in his thumb. It wasn’t much, but while carving it, Marco had met Thatch, and when they finished it together, they were closer than ever. They had given it to Whitebeard for their first Christmas together and the man kept it as one of his greatest treasures, calling it his heart.

_ “It's perfect Marco,” Whitebeard swore, stroking the wood. His first gift from his family. “Gurarara, and who is that behind you my little chick?” _

_ Marco, who barely reached his shin, smiled, taking the hand of his new brunette friend. “Thatch! He’s an orphan too yoi!” the blonde pulled the other forward, who was shyly hiding behind him. “Can… can he stay? He wants a family too.”  _

_ “Gurarara! Of course!” _

Marco tilted his head, a melancholy smile appearing on his face and Shanks mentally sighed in relief. Marco stared at it a moment more before he silently opened it, the hinge screeching slightly with rust. Inside, there revealed a few trinkets, pieces that likely held memories that Whitebeard held dear, as well as a few pictures of himself with some of his 'brats'. Moving those aside, Marco paused when he saw an envelope; he picked it up and flipped it over.

**_To My Greatest Treasures_ **

Marco’s eyes widened briefly.

_ Marco nuzzled his face into his father's warm skin. "And if something does happen?" he murmured.  _

_ Whitebeard was silent for a moment. "I wrote it down in my heart a long time ago," he said. _

Shanks jumped as Marco abruptly stood, staring at the envelope. “Uh- Marco?” he asked almost timidly.

Marco looked at him. “Shanks,” he said, and the man jumped as he was hugged tightly. “Thanks for everything, yoi,” he breathed.

Before Shanks could reply Marco released him and ran out of the room, off the ship, box in hand. Shanks stared at him before giving a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” he replied before following.

"Marco?"

"Captain Marco!"

"Big Bro what's wrong!?"

Marco ignored his siblings has he jogged passed them towards Ace's and Whitebeard’s graves, holding Whitebeard’s heart to his chest with both hands. Finally, he was there and he took a moment to catch his breath as he looked at Whitebeard’s stone, a stone that stood as strong and as tall as the man it showcased. 

_ "I love you Oyaji,"  _ Marco thought to himself, and then turned to face his curious and sad siblings.

Marco straightened his back, standing tall with his father behind him, and like clockwork, everyone else straightened as well, looking at their big brother. Marco looked at them all in silence before he held up the envelope. He cleared his throat.

"Oyaji wrote something to us," he said and the silence was broken with a whisper of surprise. "I think it was meant for this day."

There was silence again as Marco, with shaky fingers, opened the letter and pulled out what must've been at least five pages. Marco cleared his throat again, looking at the familiar penmanship; written by Selma, the head nurse, he noted.

**_"To my greatest treasures_ ** ," he began, 

**_"Not so long ago, as many of my stories begin, there was a man; a man who sailed alone with his only companion, his wife, the sea. If there was one thing that man, or rather myself, yearned for, it was for a son._ **

**_I remember,"_ ** Marco paused, choking on suppressed tears before he cleared his throat again.  **_"I remember that time, nearly three decades ago when I went to port in a no-name town and met my little phoenix, my first son Marco. I remember our first Christmas, where I met our beloved Thatch, who barely reached my shin and I remember New Years when Jozu threw that sake bottle at me."_ **

By now everyone was also in tears, but they couldn't help the chuckles and giggle that left them while Jozu smirked in embarrassment. 

**_"I remember meeting Izou, Jiru, and Namur. I remember meeting each and every one of you, and I remember the smiles you all gave when I asked you all to become my beloved children._ **

**_Fatherhood was not easy, there isn't a training manual hidden somewhere in my cabin but it wasn't unpleasant either. I remember the pure joy I felt when Haruta trusted me to tell me that 'she' wanted to be a he, and I remember when Ace opened his very soul to me when he told me of his greatest fears."_ **

Everyone was smiling now, remembering their own happy memories with Oyaji.

**_"I loved celebrating my birthday, when everyone would come home to be with me, and I loved telling you all my stories. I loved drinking with Marco, and teasing the nurses, my daughters,"_ ** said nurses sniffled, wiping their tears with smiles,  **_"Hell, I even tolerated that Akagami brat, who better be here."_ ** Everyone laughed.  **_"But most all of, I love you all; My own One Piece._ **

**_And so comes my end; Marco,"_ ** said man paused a moment as he read silently to himself in shock.  **_"Marco_ ** ....  **_I leave the family to you. Lead our family and make more great adventures that create amazing stories to tell. Tell the next generation of the world's strongest man, all of you; and never stop believing in this family._ **

**_Sincerely, Edward Newgate, Your Father."_ **

...

There was silence as everyone processed what had been said by their deceased father. Marco stared at the letter before tilting his head to see the grave. ' _ Oyaji.., ' _

Finally Shanks, who was in the back, spoke. "Oi! What's with this depression everyone? Let's have a party!" he shouted. 

Despite what had happened that day, everyone cheered in agreement, leaving behind their father, whom they all knew would prefer if they were happy rather than sad. Staying behind was Marco, who was watching them all leave.

"My shoulders," he murmured, "they feel heavy, yoi."

It was true. It suddenly felt like someone was standing on his back and shoulders, shoving him into the ground.

"Can I really do this...?" Marco turned to the grave. "Oyaji...?

A hand clasped on his shoulder and Marco jumped, turning towards it sharply. He silently gasped in shock. The rest of the commanders were behind him.

"The load isn't only yours to carry Captain," Vista said.

Izou grinned. "It may ruin my kimono but I'll happily take on some of that weight Marco," he said, "for you and chichi-ue."

"Me too," Haruta said, pumping his fist.

"I as well," said Jozu with a nod.

Everyone else nodded or voiced their agreements and Marco stared. These were his beloved brothers, and they were there for him. Marco smiled.

"Right," he nodded, and they all began to walk in the direction of the beach. "After the party, let's talk Water 7, we'll need a new  _ Moby,  _ yoi; and..."


End file.
